The Black Sun Conspiracy

Chapter Twenty-Five

“What’s happening?” Sam gasped, snatching at his seatbelt and jamming it into place. Just seconds later he was glad he had, as Axelle spun the wheel and sent the car tearing round a tight corner. Nina, who had not been so quick off the mark, ended up sprawled across him.

“Axelle, who were they?” she asked as she righted herself. “Were they Black Sun?”

Axelle glanced in the rear view mirror, checking for vehicles in pursuit. There were none. “Not as such,” she said. “Those men were hired specifically to intercept you tonight. They do not work for the Black Sun exclusively; they work for whoever pays them.”

“Well, I can’t think of anyone else who wants to kill us,” said Nina. Sam caught Axelle looking intently at him in the mirror. She did not look away when he met her gaze. ‘What does that mean?’ He wondered. ‘What does she know?’

As they sped through the dark, silent streets, Axelle explained that Purdue had intercepted the order being given to the would-be assassins and had dispatched her to bring Sam and Nina back safely. When pressed on the matter of who had given the orders and exactly how Purdue had been able to find out about them, she demurred. “I’ve told you all that I know,” she said. “Anything more would be speculation only.” Sam and Nina exchanged a look at the sound of those familiar words.

Suddenly a motorbike shot out from a side street, right in front of the car. Axelle yelled and swerved wildly. The shriek of metal against metal pierced the air as they struck a row of parked cars, dragging the fender painfully along the line of doors until they were back on track.

The car tore along Nieuwe Gentweg, the motorcyclist keeping pace on their left. He reached into his jacket and drew out a gun. It glinted under the streetlights as he drew level with the driver window and took aim at Axelle. She swerved a little, just enough to force him to swerve too to avoid being hit. He fell behind. Axelle stamped hard on the accelerator — then, just as suddenly, she braked hard, as a shot rang through the night.

Just as the car slowed to a stop, another shot disturbed the silence. The car shuddered. “The tire!” Axelle cried. “They’ve shot the tire!” She hit the pedal again, testing her control. “It’s alright. They will not stop us.” Sam wondered whether her words were intended to reassure him and Nina or Axelle herself. The car pulled hard to the right, but Axelle compensated.

Up ahead loomed a fork in the road with a tall, gothic church in the center. The motorcyclist had caught up, once again on the left hand side. Axelle scanned the road, calculating the best choice of route to lose their unwelcome companion. She bore right.

‘Too soon,’ thought Sam, ‘too soon! We could have caught him out with a feint, maybe… Can we lose him? We can’t get up the speed to shake him off, not in these tight little streets.’

“Hang on!” Axelle yelled. She swung the nose of the car round. With a sickening crunch the motorbike ploughed into the fender. The impact threw the rider high, clear of the vehicle. Sam spun in his seat, watching open-mouthed, too slow to see the fall. The rider lay in an unnatural position on the pavement outside the church door, his head at an impossible angle to his body.

The long moment of seeing the dead man passed, and the car rushed into the night.

It took no more than ten minutes to get back across the quiet city center to the safe house. Axelle stopped the car at the end of the street. “You two left on foot, did you not? Then you had better return on foot. There is a place nearby where I can hide the car, then I shall catch up. There are things we need to discuss.”

“Are you alright?” Nina asked Sam, watching the car move off. Sam had not realized that he was shaking until she asked. He gave a non-committal murmur in response. They walked as casually as they could back to the little white house and knocked on the door.

Purdue answered, still drawn and pale. His eyes moved rapidly over both of them, checking for any new injuries. Then, quite unexpectedly, he launched himself forward and embraced both of them. “I should have been with you,” he said. “It was far too dangerous to let you go without me.”

“If you’d been with us you probably wouldn’t have found out that those men were after us,” said Sam, giving Purdue an awkward couple of pats on the back before disentangling himself. “Then we’d all have been killed.” ‘He’s such an odd one,’ he thought. ‘I never know what to make of him. He’s so distanced most of the time, and then every so often he has these outbursts and acts like we’re the best of friends. I can never tell whether he’s enjoying all of this or whether it’s as frightening for him as it is for me.’

Another knock at the door made them all jump. Purdue was on edge at once, facing the entrance, putting himself between Nina and whatever lay beyond the door.

“It’s ok.” Nina checked the fisheye and then reached for the handle. “It’s Axelle.”

‘It could be my imagination,’ Sam thought, ‘but I think Purdue just went a little whiter. What’s the problem between him and Axelle?’

It took no more than a few minutes to bring Purdue up to date on what had happened — the map, the knife-wielding figures, and the pursuit. “The car is safely hidden,” Axelle assured him. “By now I would expect that the motorcyclist has been found, and perhaps the police are searching for the vehicle. They will not find it, at least not any time soon.”

“Good,” said Purdue. “And there was only one motorcyclist? What happened to the other assailant?”

“I do not know. Certainly we were only pursued by one, but there was no chance to see where the other one went. I do not imagine he would have been able to give chase on foot.”

“Good. Thank you, Axelle. You may tell Matteus that I am extremely glad that he passed our case on to you. I shall, of course, make sure that you are suitably recompensed for the damage to the car.”

Axelle fixed Purdue with a hard look. There was none of the gratitude that would usually have followed such a compliment. “Mr. Purdue,” she said, her voice as unforgiving as her stare, “I understand from your tone that you would like me to say you’re welcome and leave. But I will not. Tonight I have seen these two people risking their lives, without even knowing why they are doing so. It is time that you did them the courtesy of telling them what you are doing. Because if you do not, I will.”

Purdue’s jaw tightened. He looked as if he intended to argue. Then suddenly he relented. He turned and walked through to the living room, picked up the whisky bottle and poured himself a drink. “I would suggest that you all join me in this,” he said, gesturing towards the glasses. “You may need them.”